


We could have this

by Fatale (femme)



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: Peter and Neal are playing Monopoly, while Neal cheats relentlessly, palming railroads and pastel money.“I know you’re cheating, Neal,” Peter says, not looking up from where he’s lining his cards up neatly in rows.“I’m sure you do,” Neal says gleefully, surveying his bounty of pilfered properties.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for my darling cookielaura for f_s
> 
> She asked for spanking, but I didn't quite get there because I ran out of time. So maybe a followup!

We could have this  
(Peter/Neal) mentions Peter/Neal/El

 

It’s so ridiculous, it’s actually kind of embarrassing. Peter and Neal are playing Monopoly, while Neal cheats relentlessly, palming railroads and pastel money.

“I know you’re cheating, Neal,” Peter says, not looking up from where he’s lining his cards up neatly in rows.

“I’m sure you do,” Neal says gleefully, surveying his bounty of pilfered properties. “The question is, can you stop me?” He drains his wineglass. “Going to get a refill, want another beer?”

Peter nods, watches Neal walk past, and without thinking, swats him on the butt. “I can do that,” he says.

Neal stops, suddenly tense. Peter does a double take. “Neal?” he asks, concerned.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Neal says, visibly shaking himself.

Peter hears the refrigerator door open, then the cork of a wine bottle What just happened? It was all fun and games until he spanked Neal -- oh. Did Neal hate it? Did…he like it?

Interrupting his troubling train of thought, Neal slides across from him and hands Peter another beer. He thanks Neal, twists off the cap and takes a long pull. They should probably talk about this.

Peter clears his throat, wishes El were here. She’s so much better at this than he is. “Soooo,” Peter says, not at all subtly.

Neal looks up warily. “Yes?”

“Uh, you know, a few minutes ago--”

“Peter,” Neal interrupts. “That was nothing, really.”

Neal’s eyes are wide, the set of his mouth carefully relaxed, which is what convinces Peter that something happened, even if he doesn’t quite know what that something is yet.

There’s no way around it, no delicate phrasing that will make this less embarrassing for either of them. For one agonizing moment, Peter wishes he was a slightly different person, one able to let things go that catch his interest, someone that loved people a little less, one who was content to take what people offer and not a morsel more. But he’s not, he’s Peter Burke, and he’s smart, dogged, and inelegant, which is why he blurts out, “Do you like to be spanked?”

Neal’s face goes crimson. “I--”

“Because it would be fine if you do,” Peter says. “A lot of people like that, you know, and other stuff, kinky stuff.” What is he even saying, nonsense keeps flying out of his mouth of its own accord, holy shit.

Neal’s looking progressively more miserable the longer Peter babbles and he forces himself to stop. Neal plays with a stack of pink dollars, looking down at their forgotten game. “I’ve always kind of liked--that. I’ve only ever done it with one person, but it was--yeah. I liked it”

Peter wonders if it was a woman or a man, if they bent Neal over their knee or if Neal stood, maybe tied to something, while someone took their bare hand and slapped his ass as hard as they could until the skin was bright pink and twitching. The thought is not unappealing.

“Neal, do you want me to spank you?”

Neal’s head shoots up at that. “Peter? No, of course not-” Neal licks his lips, looking carefully at Peter “-unless you’d want to?”

Peter is nothing if not brave, but this is Neal, one of the loves of his life, asking for something sexual that costs nothing and hurts no one. This doesn’t require bravery. “I want to try.”

“O-okay. Now?” Neal says, flicking slim fingers over a silk dark blue tie that probably costs as much as Peter’s last paycheck. He has an idea for that tie.

Peter scoots back from the table and stands up. He holds a hand out to Neal. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> said i would write the spanking. :)

 

 

Every time he undresses Neal, Peter feels a little dizzy. The tie clip, the cufflinks, the belt, the polished shoes -- it’s all armor, a distraction -- look over here, while Neal steals your wallet. And each time Neal lets Peter strip that way, piece by shiny piece, Peter feels like Neal’s showing him a secret, something very few people have ever seen.

“On the bed,” Peter says, once Neal is standing before him undressed, hands clenched at his sides.

Neal lowers his eyes, eyelashes sweeping low across his cheeks. He knows how appealing Peter finds it, but for some reason, right now it makes Peter frown. This is for fun, but it’s not a game. He’s not interested in being played.

“Look at me,” Peter says. Neal shiver, looks up, eyes wide and vulnerable in a way he’s not sure he’s ever seen from Neal.

He’s nervous, Peter realizes. “Hey, hey,” he says. “We don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to. I just--” He fidgets a little. It takes trust, Peter thinks, to give over all control, especially if you're Neal Caffrey and have spent so much of your life struggling for the illusion of effortless perfection. 

“Pick a safe word,” Peter says.

“Peter, I don’t need--”

“Do it,” Peter says. “For me.”

“Uh, Rembrandt.”

“Say it again.”

“Rembrandt.”

“You can use it anytime,” Peter tells him. “I won’t be angry.”

“I know,” Neal says quickly.

Peter can tell he’s worried. Neal has a habit of saying just the opposite of what he means, but there can't be any disagreements or confusion about this. Peter’s no sex maniac, but he’s not a rube. He knows things.

Neal’s handing Peter an incredible amount of trust, the least Peter can do is return the favor. Throughout the years with the misdirections, lies by omission, and even with the love, they have never been able to get here: to a perfect moment of honesty. Peter wants to have Neal, all of him, to understand him down to the very bones of him. “I want you,” Peter murmurs, carding his hand through Neal’s thick, wavy hair.

“You’ve got me.”

“Do I?” Peter asks, but he’s not expecting an answer.

Neal surprises him by climbing onto the bed on all fours, ass on full display, sides twitching with quickened breaths. “Yes,” Neal says, on a long exhale.

Peter runs a hand down Neals back, fascinated by the way the muscles twitch and jump beneath his fingers. He pulls his hand back and then swats lightly at Neal’s ass, watching the skin pink up with fascination. He slaps again harder, the firm flesh bouncing beneath his palm. He watches Neal brace himself, so he waits, then as soon as Neal relaxes, delivers another stinging hit just to hear Neal hiss through gritted teeth. He watches the clock, the minutes ticking by, punctuated by the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, Neal’s hitching breaths, the mattress creaking beneath them.

He stops when Neal barely reacts, arms trembling, head bowed low.

“Good?” Peter mumbles, barely able to recognize his own voice.

“Yeah,” Neal says, on a drawn-out exhale. He sounds far away, blissed-out.

Peter curls himself over Neal’s body and lowers Neal gently to the bed, his suit jacket bracketing Neal from the sides, hiding his lovely expanse of skin. “Come back to me,” he says in Neal’s ear and scrapes his teeth over the lobe. Neal shivers, blinks languidly, turns his head and kisses Peter deeply, open-mouthed and urgent.

“I’m here,” Neal says before swiping his tongue against the seam of Peter’s lips. “I’m always here,” he reassures Peter.

 

 

 


End file.
